


coming up empty

by fourshoesfrank



Series: autistic marvel [6]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Autistic Ray Nadeem, F/M, Gen, I wrote this instead of studying, IM GONNA MAKE THAT A THING, Pre-Canon, TW meltdowns, autistic character(s) of color, i am LIVING i love that movie sm, pls heed the warning i jsut tagged, short paragraphs are sexy as Fuck, the nadeems are muslim, the point of this fic is that ray has a meltdown., the rating is just for cussing lol, the title sounds so ominous lol trust me it's not, this is a vent fic, we're watching my name is khan in religion rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-23 21:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourshoesfrank/pseuds/fourshoesfrank
Summary: "You watched My Name is Khan at Anila's house, right?""Yeah, but her sister said not to tell you...""That doesn't matter, you're not in trouble. The point is, I'm kinda like Rizvan."Ray doesn't know how the fuck to explain meltdowns to his nine year old kid.





	coming up empty

**Author's Note:**

> the Thai time travel movie that is mentioned is Siyama: Village of Warriors and it's GOOD go watch it https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=hK1_7OsDtXE&t=3357s

“Ray?”

  
Seema. That voice is Seems. That’s his wife. His wife is calling his name.

  
Ray can’t find it in himself to do more than turn in her direction. Even that small amount of movement makes the sleeves of his shirt rasp against his skin in the worst fashion possible. He knows that if he tries to take the shirt off, he'll be cold, and he knows from experience that a temperature change is even worse than the shirt's texture.

  
Ray isn't stupid, he knows what's happening. He's having a meltdown. Someone at work brought tuna for lunch, which is one of Ray's least favorite smells; he's been stressing all through the day about the fact that Sami asked him to take a picture of the cool sculpture that Ray passes on his way to work and he fucking forgot; his walk home from work took him through a construction zone full of loud noises; his shirt is painful to wear...Ray knows what this is. He hoped he could deal with it before Seema got home, but apparently not.

  
"Ray, what's wrong?" Ya Allah, why is her voice so _loud_? Ray wants to cover his ears to block out the noise, but that would mean moving his arms and agitating the cloth again. He has his eyes clenched tightly against the lights in the room, but he opens them to look at his wife.

  
"Ray, what's hurting you?"

  
She wants a word for an answer and why is everything so loud! He can't point at his sleeve because she won't understand what that means but the sound of his own voice is going to be even louder than her voice was just now and that means it's going to hurt his ears even more and—

  
"Is it your shirt?"

  
He's been unconsciously trying to pull the button-down over his head, despite the fact that it won't go because it's still fully buttoned. Seema takes slow, measured steps towards Ray and gently pushes his hands away from his collar. That's good, that's good, he might have choked if she wasn't here to help him. His wife's slender hands slide the shirt over his head and she tosses away, probably to the pile of dirty clothes that accumulates whenever she forgets to do laundry, which is often. Ray stops moving altogether for a moment, appreciating the absence of the pain the shirt was causing. The moment doesn't last for very long, though, because he remembers why he didn't want to remove his shirt in the first place. It's cold.

  
Ray needs to be warm. Being cold is bad, it's very bad, he's always hated the cold and the winter and now he's in a cold room without a shirt and it's bad. He wraps his arms around himself and squeezes tightly, trying to warm his body up. He doesn't realize that he's on the floor until the bedroom carpet touches his side and arm. Ray flinches at the texture. It's also bad.

  
Another texture on his side. This time it's a small spot of warmth. Seema. She taps him on the shoulder and says, "Are you cold?" Her voice is still so loud, but Ray figures that he has a bigger sensory problem.

  
Ray makes a noise of agreement that isn't exactly a word in English or Hindi, but his wife understands. She takes his hand and directs him to the bed, which is covered in blankets and _why didn't he think of this before he made it worse for himself?_

  
"Cold." Great job, Agent Nadeem manages one measly word! Give it up for the token autistic of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, folks, he's having a tough go with it! Ray shakes his head to clear it.

  
Seema places a blanket around him as he rocks back and forth on the bed, smelling the smell of home and hearing the sounds of home and, when he opens his eyes, seeing Seema, the sight of home.

  
After a while, the bedroom door opens.

  
Another thing Ray forgot: Sami doesn't have practice today. Some kid broke a ceiling light in the school gym, so no basketball practice today.

  
Ray isn't sure how to react, so he doesn't. He keeps rocking in place, shirtless, with the gray blanket wrapped around him, not looking at anything in particular, aware that in this moment he could be the poster boy (poster man?) for autism. He doesn't care.

  
Seema waves a hand at Sami, who is standing still in the bedroom doorway, watching Ray.

  
"Everything's okay, Sami," Seema reassures her son. "Go do your homework. I'll be down in a few minutes."

  
"Okay."

  
Seema lets out a long sigh as soon as Sami closes the door.

  
She places an arm around Ray's shoulders, moving slowly so he can have every opportunity to pull away if he's not ready to be touched. He doesn't object, so she lays her arm across his shoulders and squeezes gently.

  
"How do you feel now, honey?"

  
"Better. Mostly. Not sure how I'm gonna explain this to Sami."

  
Ray is already trying to come up with a way to tell the kid what happened, because if Sami doesn't have an explanation, he'll assume the worst almost immediately. Ray doesn't really blame him. Hell, Sami probably gets it from his dad.

  
"I'll explain it, if you want me to. If you feel like it's too hard."

  
"No, no. I have to tell him. It has to be me. I'll do it now."

  
If this were another decision, Seema wouldn't give as easily. But this is not another decision, this is Ray trying to figure out how the fuck to explain meltdowns to his nine year old son, so Seema doesn't argue.

  
Ray tries to think of a movie, a book, any piece of media that portrays autism in an even halfway decent light. He's coming up empty.

  
_Lilo and Stitch_ isn't a half bad example, but Ray doesn't have hardly any of the autistic traits that Lilo shows. Besides, Sami's only seen that movie...two times, when he was four? He probably won't remember enough to understand Ray's point.

  
Is there any movie, any book, that doesn't seem like a piece of Autism Speaks propaganda? Ray wracks his brain, trying to think of something. Something Sami will know about.

  
It dawns on him—the fucking Bollywood movie with an autistic character. _My Name is Khan_ actually does a pretty good job of not demonizing autism and treating the autistic character like an adult. And it’s a Bollywood movie. Sami loves Bollywood movies, even if he complains about how long they are.

  
What the fuck is Ray gonna say?

  
“Hey, bug,” Ray says when he reaches the kitchen, where Sami is sitting at the counter with some homework spread out before him. He’s not doing it, though. He’s not even holding a pencil.

  
Sami looks up at Ray and smiles, but Ray can tell that something is bothering the kid. He can't always tell with other people, but his son's emotions have never been hard for Ray to figure out.

  
"Are you sick, Dad?"

  
Ray freezes instinctively. He knows Sami didn't mean to sound like the Autism Cure Crowd, but Ray can't help his reaction. It reminds him of the attitude the Bureau had when he handed over his medical history. They offered him behavioral therapy (For Adults™), and the doctor who gave Ray his physical talked to him like he was a ten year old. It was infuriating. His day-to-day coworkers don't act like that, thankfully.

  
"No, no, bug, I'm not sick. I'm just..." There has to be a good way to say this, but Ray can't find the words.

  
"You're what?"

  
"You watched _My Name is Khan_ at Anila's house, right?" It was either that movie or some Thai movie about time traveling. Ray hopes it was the former. Maybe it was both, he can't exactly remember.

  
"Yeah, but her sister said not tell you..."

  
"That doesn’t matter, you’re not in trouble. The point is, I'm kinda like Rizvan." Ray sits back and waits for a reaction. He hopes it's a good one. He's not sure he could handle it right now if Sami doesn't take this well.

  
His son's forehead wrinkles in confusion. "But you don't know anything about repairing stuff."

  
"That's true, I don't," Ray chuckles, relieved that Sami didn't immediately bring up the fact that Rizvan is autistic. That means that Ray has to do it. "I meant that I'm autistic like him." Ray wants to say more, add some kind of disclaimer, but he shoves away the urge to justify his neurotype to his own son.

  
The boy nods as he absorbs what Ray just told him. "So...so you were freaking out earlier like he did when he almost got run over? And Mom was helping you like Mandira helped Rizvan?"

  
Ray exhales, thanking God that his son is so understand and perceptive. "Yeah, yeah," he agrees, thanking Allah once more. "That's called a meltdown. Today was just a bad day for me, that's all. When it happens again, just make sure I'm not hurting myself, and then get your mom. Okay?"

  
"Yeah."

  
Ray nods. "So, you need some help on that math or do you just not wanna do it?"

  
"A little of both," Sami says with a shrug.

  
Ray can't do math for shit. Granted, this is fourth grade math, but still. "Seems!" he calls up the stairs, "we need someone down here who can do math!"

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is appreciated!!


End file.
